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Alban can barely feel himself.
He's been laying in bed for… god knows how long. There's a pen that he was using to scribble down details digging into his side, he'd forgotten to click its pen nib back in.
There's sticky notes scattered all over his bed, that he had said that he would stick on a board when he was finished. He has not moved an inch since then, so Alban doesn't know why he bothered saying that to himself.
He moves his arm. It's heavy and sluggish at best, but he manages to pluck one sticky note off his blanket. When Alban finally has it in view, he sees that most of his handwriting has gone to shit. The details are smudged and don't make a lot of sense, at least to anybody but him.
10:34 PM, 2ND? 3RD? MONTH MARCH. 3 BEFORE RESET.
That sticky note detailed, more or less, the most recent cycle before Alban woke up here.
He's been watching Noctyx die for the past 7 cycles.
Alban can't quite remember when it started, memories foggy when he tries to reach for details. He doesn't try to. He at least knows he'll end up waking up in this bed, on the 28th of January.
What Alban doesn't know is how he'll die this time. It isn't always the same. Not all of the Noctyx members go down before he does, but there seems to be a running recurrence of Uki dying no matter the cycle.
Sweet, sweet Uki. Psychic powers unfortunately do not offer much assistance when it really comes down to it.
Yugo got quickly downed that cycle, getting stampeded by the growing crowd of angry monsters. Sonny, who had jumped in to help was barely able to keep them away. He only knows he's still there by the sounds of gunfire. Alban couldn't tell where Fulgur was, but he was too busy trying to stop the gore from spilling out of Uki's gaping wound to try thinking too much about him.
"God, fucking– where are the others when you need them?" He mutters out, not exactly angry, but exasperated nonetheless. In every cycle, not once did the other groups manage to get there on time before Alban got killed. They're probably struggling in their own battles, but he wants to complain anyway.
Alban's too focused on the wound to hear the footsteps of the raging demons getting closer. "We're going… we're going to get out of here, do you fucking hear me, Uki?" Truthfully, he doesn't think he does. The psychic's body has been getting colder by the second, his blood drenching Alban's jacket and wow humans sure have a lot of blood.
"Uki?" Alban tries again, but this time, he gets a bullet through the head.
So when Uki asks what's wrong in every cycle, desperate to understand Alban who's digging his nails into his own palm, he wants to laugh. Maybe he is right now on his bed, he can't quite tell over the fog in his brain. It won't change anything, because even if Alban tells the psychic everything, he'll still end up watching them die.
It's funny to him because he doesn't think he's pissed off any gods in his lifetime, yet it feels like they're all playing a game with him. (There's no hilarity to the situation, he wants to choke on his own empty laughter.)
He's the pawn and he can't do anything about it.
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7-8 AM, JULY JUNE APRIL. ALL BEFORE RESET.
"Alban?" He hears Fulgur speak, concern weighing heavily in his voice. Alban stops crushing the sticky note in his fist, when did he have that in his hand? He doesn't remember getting out of bed either.
White eyebrows furrow. Worry doesn't fit the cyborg, he thinks. Though, he's seen Fulgur in worse states. Like both of his bionic arms ripped off, forcefully detached from his torso, a spear into his gut. He doesn't scream. He grunts and bites down on his lip.
Alban didn't know what to do with the screams of the others in the background cutting off and Fulgur yelling at him to get to safety, a demand he didn't manage to get to.
He doesn't react when Fulgur moves closer to the couch, one hand on it as he carefully tilts his head.
"Alban?" Fulgur calls again.
"...What?" He realises, a little too late, that he probably must sound exhausted. Fulgur's crouching in front of him, gently touching his knee and that's weird. Was this cycle already to the point where they were close enough to do this? How long has it been since this cycle started?
How come he's not trying harder? What if something changed? What if there was hope–
"Do you want to take a break?" Alban can tell Fulgur's trying and that's…nice.
However, he's heard this phrase the past 6? 9? 7? times. It's not sickening, but it makes him feel pained. The other is so caring and Alban definitely could lean on him if he really wants to, cry his eyes out and be comforted. That won't change anything though, because he's the only one who remembers. In the next cycle, Fulgur won't know about his tears or frantic rambling. He won't know about the weight that suffocates Alban, dragging him down and tearing him apart.
"That sounds good."
Fulgur has not changed. Noctyx has not, will not change.
In a way, Alban can tell that that guarantees this cycle's downfall.
.
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9 PM. OCTOBER. 1 BEFORE RESET. UKI.
Alban's really starting to have trouble focusing on anything.
Yugo had come in earlier to check up on him out of worry because he'd been stuck in his room for a while, handing him a music player with a playlist personally selected by the DJ himself. Alban's been listening to it for the past half an hour. It's not really helping, but he appreciates the other's well-meaning concern.
Although, he doesn't feel present, every waking moment feels like he's drowning and he doesn't know what to do. The guilt, its weight only builds as the days go by.
It's been a month since this cycle started but he hasn't done anything. Alban has barely written down his notes to the same extent as his previous cycle, he doesn't think it's worth it.
Uki tells him that he seems troubled. Alban waves him off with a smile that takes all of his willpower to do anything else for the day. Sonny comes to him and asks if he'd like anything for dinner, he says he'll make his own later.
He doesn't. Instead, he lays in bed and looks up at the ceiling for the next 2 hours.
Alban doesn't remember how many cycles it's been, but it's long past the dozen mark. He doesn't remember when it started, what the first cycle was like, how Noctyx first died, he doesn't remember it at all. A part of him is relieved.
Another part of him is terrified. He doesn't know if the feelings, the friendships and relationships he has with the group can be considered authentic anymore. He's seen almost every side of them, seen them cry and sob, be scared of death, laugh and love and.
They've seen nothing of him.
To them, to this current timeline's Noctyx, Alban Knox is nothing more than an enigma.
Alban has lived and loved Noctyx, spent so much time with Uki, with them that they were family, but to the current timeline? They were just barely friends, coworkers. The connection is faulty, fake from his point of view.
He can't love them like he did before, knowing their inevitable doom looms above them. He can't touch them like he did before, remembering the feeling of their blood on his hands. He can't connect with them like he did before, because he knows everything and they don't.
The Alban they could have had is not here. Instead, all there is, is him. Somehow, that makes him feel guilt that strangles him like no other moment in time.
'Why am I here?' Alban thinks. 'I'm not helping them, in fact I'm a liability if anything right now.'
'I'll get them killed.' He sits up and swallows the bile that's rising down his throat. 'If I don't do anything, I'll kill them.'
He pushes himself off the bed. Alban has to get to work, because if he doesn't… if he doesn't, he doesn't know how much more he can take.
.
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NOON. APRIL. 3.
Alban isn't a detective.
He isn't! He's a phantom thief and he likes schemes and plans, but he sure doesn't like dangling around on a god's chessboard and trying to figure out tails from heads.
So Alban's trying to use his brain, the same way the fox detective uses his when he's solving an important case.
He lays out his notes and looks at them. They're shit. Most of his memories are blurry and not right, a lot of details are omitted when he ends up writing them down. The more recent cycles are better noted, but Alban doesn't know where to even start.
Alban thinks about detailing Noctyx's deaths. He doesn't. He thinks about counting the number of times each of them have died. He doesn't do that either. His family being written down as a statistic makes him feel sick.
The notes end up being shorter and far more simplified than he remembers his previous ones. It doesn't matter, he just needs to think and plan out and wonder what he can do to keep Noctyx from dying. Himself, from dying.
The problem is, Alban can't remember his first cycle, which leaves him wondering if he did something to piss off someone, something. Maybe he did and that's why he's stuck in this nightmare.
He could ask Ethyria, they were quite familiar with heaven and hell, he could maybe talk to Elira and Selen. However, there's also the fear that he may drag them into this problem, this hellhole with seemingly no escape.
'At least I won't be lonely.' Alban tears his palm's skin from how tight he's clenching his fist, he isn't wearing his gloves. That's insane of him, that's awful of him to think that.
He needs to solve this, needs to get out of this before he becomes someone other than himself. Alban uses red strings to connect his notes together and lists the recurring things that happen every cycle, he won't forget something like that.
It looks like a standard private investigator board, those from movies and shows. He's thinking about that when he pins the last note onto the corkboard.
There's a knock on his door and he hears Sonny call his name, something about dinner. It makes him feel surprisingly light. There's a small smile on his face when he replies.
"Coming, Sonny!" He takes one last look at his notes, before heading to the door.
Alban isn't a detective, but he can't afford to give up yet.
.
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MIDNIGHT. FEB. 4. againagainagain why the fuck am i doing this anymore
Getting shrapnel in your gut is not fun. He certainly would not recommend it to anybody he knows. Alban most certainly doesn't like the memory of Uki's face being sliced off by metal from an explosion either, so he slides off his bed and pukes in the bathroom.
He's getting tired.
Every word said by Noctyx feels like a script he's read a hundred times, he knows what they'll say, how they'll react. He knows and knows and he doesn't want to at all.
Alban responds curtly whenever his family, group? speak to him. Their dynamic changes slowly, they try to communicate with him, he doesn't give them that luxury.
He's exhausted, his handwriting is barely legible when he writes down his notes. He doesn't want to do this.
When Alban looks at Noctyx, he sees ghosts. He sees the dead and he's very sure his eyes have always been fine up till now.
They haunt him, the souls of the first few cycles weep, the more recent ones laugh and mock. He does his best to tell the past from the present.
The pen nib's on his finger tip, pressed until it breaks skin. There's anxiety thrumming to his veins, because every moment he's in his room, time slips away from him. Once it does, he'll lose everything again.
Maybe Alban's already losing it all and he realises when Sonny and Yugo tip toe around him like he'll snap at them if they move wrong, when Uki stares at him like there's something he knows but won't say, when Fulgur doesn't tease and start banter.
There's only so much he can take, only so much. He feels the distance between him and the others and it's crushing him. Alban wants to try, he wants to, he does but it's so exhausting. He's done this more times than he can bother counting, so this time, maybe he's okay with just letting the deaths happen. That's not going to end up changing something, right?
Then, after this cycle, he needs to…
… What, what does he need to do? Save Noctyx? Save himself? Will that change anything ?
Alban can feel himself slipping.
This time, he doesn't bother to catch the edge.
.
.
MORNING. SUMMER. 2.
Everyone's dead.
Alban clutches at the wound on his torso, feeling the blood seep to the snow below him. It's a little scary, but he doesn't exactly mind when his warmth ebbs away and makes room for the chilling cold.
He imagines that a snow grave isn't what the others expected on their night out together, it's a little funny to Alban after everything. Laughing kind of hurts right now.
How will they die next time? Scorching heat doesn't sound too fun, although there's been a few cycles off the top of his head that fire certainly plays a part.
Alban's closing his eyes when he feels something, someone's presence and he looks up. As if someone were trailing a finger through the snow, letters form on it, constructing a sentence for him to see.
Surprisingly though, there's no physical body to look at. Some sort of magic? Alban isn't really in the position to think too hard about it, bleeding out and all.
I'm surprised you haven't broken yet.
Huh, he must be hallucinating again. That seems to be a common occurrence nowadays.
I assure you this is no hallucination.
Oh, well, that goes that thought then. He leans back on the tree he had slumped on initially. Is this a god? Deity? The thing that plays around with him?
Alban Knox, I propose a deal. In exchange for ending the time loop for you, you can transfer it to Uki Violeta.
I will not offer such mercy again.
Alban blinks, then reads over the words again. Suddenly this entire situation feels more than a little surreal. End it? He can finally end it. He can stop looking at Noctyx weirdly and, perhaps it'll be okay for him to relax for once since the start of this.
He can agree to the deal, close his eyes right now and it'll be all over for him. He doesn't have to worry about hallucinations and suffocating memories, he doesn't have to worry about not being able to be there for Noctyx. He can finally sleep peacefully.
Yet,
Uki.
Transfer that to Uki? He couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that to any of the Noctyx members. They're family , they're everything he loves and needs in his life right now. Shoving all that responsibility, all of that burdening weight to his most beloved? Alban doesn't know if he can even bear that guilt, bear to perhaps have the next timeline's phantom thief to watch his love fade away underneath all that pain.
Theoretically, Uki would probably do a better job than he ever has. The psychic's smart and well, he's a psychic, he has the stars to guide and take care of him. He'd last so much longer than Alban has. He might even find a way to break out of this damned curse.
Alban can't do that to him. He feels his consciousness fading, he needs to give his answer before this entity takes his silence as something he doesn't want.
This nightmare, he'd never let any one of Noctyx experience that. The memories, the cycles, the timelines and resets, they're his to bear.
"Go to hell."
Even if he has to destroy himself in the end.
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MIDNIGHT. WINTER. 4.
Alban opens his eyes on the 28th of January.
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